The One Night Stand

Two

He still remembers me.

No, I tell myself. You will not mention that night ever again. You will pretend to have completely forgotten about it. No flashbacks, no memories. I. Was. Drunk.

But he stands. He stands and I see he got taller, more muscular, more beautiful.

No.

He starts to walk towards me. My direction. My desk, and my body is frozen in place. A voice inside my head tells me to move, to run, to go somewhere far, far away from this boy. But my body doesn't respond to whisper of warning inside my head. Instead, it listens to the screaming memories that are suddenly rushed back into my brain, unlocking themselves from a box I put them in, spilling out and around the rest of my body like a disease. And my body heats up as he gets closer, closer, and closer.

My body is on fire, I think. My body is on fire and I should do something to cool it down. I need water to extinguish the fire, because it is all over me, the fire is spreading all over me and I cannot stop it. There is a disease of memories flowing inside my body and there is fire covering my outside, like a blanket.

But then he speaks.

"Nice to see you again." His voice is so soothing, so gentle, yet traveling so fast and dangerous to my core, stabbing once, twice, five times with each word he pronounces. "I see you're dressed this time."

Icy water is dumped right on me, extinguishing the flames there was a second ago. He will not insult me like that. And so I decide to grab the arrow he has shot into my drunken, but still working heart last summer and shoot back.

"I'm guessing you're here to undress more girls?" My heart is speeding and I'm not sure if my collection of words is hurtful enough, if the arrow is flying in the right direction. "Because that's what you do best, right? Pretend to be drunk to hook up with girls so that anyone will take your pathetic looking face into the bedroom? Because you are not capable of leading a sober girl anywhere near you, because no one in the right mind will ever take you." My voice has risen, and anger is building up inside me.

He looks surprised at my sudden outburst, but recovers quickly and smirks. The arrow missed and is again impaling me.

He cocks his head, says, "You remember."

Those two words break me, and all I am is a puzzle piece that has been done by a child then taken apart again because it's taking too much space in their room, and he will put the unassembled pieces into a box, with maybe a sliver of chance that it will be opened again someday, in the future, and assembled once more.

"Of course I remember," I try to control my voice that is shattering voice, but fail, and I see the pleasure written all over his face.

I glance at Lilly and catch her frowning, concerned and asking silently if an interruption is needed from her side. I shake my head, hoping to maybe resolve my heart without the help of my best friend. But just the sight of the boy from last summer makes my knees tremble, and I am glad to be sitting, for if I wasn't, I'm sure I would have already collapsed.

"You," His voice holds some uncertainty, and his eyebrows are knit together in confusion. "You like me."

It's not a question, more of a statement, or discovery.

I swallow, hard, and force out a laugh. "Oh please. I was drunk and had no idea what kind of mistake I was making back then. It's not love you're seeing on my face, it's disgust. Disgust for how you could lead me into a bedroom with full control over your brain."

His eyes narrow and for just a split second, I think a flash of anger crosses his eyes, but it goes away as fast as it came.

Oh god, I want him so bad. I'm startled by my own thoughts, and scream for them to go away. His hands were so strong, holding me together like I might fall apart if he let go.

"Please," I whisper, now desperate for him to leave so I can have some room to breath. "Go away. Leave me alone."

I feel his eyes burning into me, considering his options. I lift my head a little to see his reaction, and am embarrassed for breaking under his spell so easily, because he is amused.

"You like me, Chloe. You. Like. Me." With that, he turns and walks away.

I know I should be angry, I know I should call him back and give him a long, angry speech, but all I can think of is He knows my name. He knows who I am and he knows my identity.

I wish he would say my name over and over again, because nobody can ever say it the way he says it, nobody can say my name and light my insides on fire like this. Nobody can warm my insides with just one word, just one look, just one breath.

And as he sits himself back into the seat beside Lilly, I think to myself I want to be lit up by him and him only.